


The Devil's To Blame

by being_alive



Series: A Sin With No Name [2]
Category: Jekyll & Hyde - Wildhorn
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: You've just settled down onto your couch to read a book you've been meaning to read for a while now when someone knocks on your door. You sigh and set your book down on the coffee table before getting up to open the door."Mister Hyde," you say, smiling at the sight of him once you open the door."May I come in?" Hyde asks, voice oddly pitched and that's when you notice the way he's got his hands pressed to his side and the blood staining darkening the semi-sheer material of his already dark shirt. You're quick to step to the side to allow him in.





	The Devil's To Blame

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going a bit out of order with this one (at least date-wise), but oh well.

You've just settled down onto your couch to read a book you've been meaning to read for a while now when someone knocks on your door. You sigh and set your book down on the coffee table before getting up to open the door.

"Mister Hyde," you say, smiling at the sight of him once you open the door.

"May I come in?" Hyde asks, voice oddly pitched and that's when you notice the way he's got his hands pressed to his side and the blood staining darkening the semi-sheer material of his already dark shirt. You're quick to step to the side to allow him in.

"What happened?"

Hyde says nothing in return, simply walking over to your couch and collapsing in the very same spot you'd planned to read in. You shut the door and then make your way over to him, stopping on the other side of the coffee table.

"I need you to get me a needle and some thread," Hyde says, looking up at where you're standing.

"Why aren't you in a hospital?" You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

"Hospitals ask too many questions," Hyde replies, waving a bloody hand dismissively before saying, "Now hurry up with the needle and thread."

With a sigh, you turn and quickly make the walk to your bedroom to find your sewing kit. You pull it out from under your bed and take out plain black thread and the sharpest needle you can find along with a pair of scissors. You leave the sewing kit out on your bed before going into the bathroom to get your bottle of hydrogen peroxide to clean up the wound even though Hyde didn't ask for it and two old washcloths, one dampened and one dry. 

Once you have everything in your arms, you sprint back into the living room and dump everything but the peroxide and rag over the back of the couch next to Hyde before walking around the couch and sitting on the other side of him. At some point between the time you'd left to find everything, Hyde had removed his blood-stained shirt, as he's now shirtless and the shirt is discarded on your coffee table, wadded up in a vaguely ball-like shape next to your book. 

You let yourself just look at him for a moment, eyes trailing over his bare skin. You'll never tire of seeing him shirtless, even if he does have an ugly cut on his side and is bloody because of it. Hyde is lean but still somewhat soft, muscles visible in his arms while softer around the middle but not overly so. You reach out with the damp washcloth and begin gently wiping the blood off of him. 

Hyde cuts the thread and then pauses in threading the needle to watch you, a small smiling playing at his soft lips and an unreadable expression in his eyes when you glance up at him. Once you've gotten off as much of the blood as you can, you splash some of the peroxide onto the dry washcloth and then dab the area directly around and over the wound. It doesn't look life-threatening and the bleeding has seemed to have stopped so you're not as worried about Hyde now as you were when you first noticed he was hurt.

"Are you sure using sewing thread is safe?" You ask, tossing both washcloths onto your coffee table.

"This should just be a temporary fix. A close friend of mine is a doctor," Hyde says, and then begins sewing himself up. You quickly look away, not wanting to see the needle pierce his skin or the thread be dragged through.

"Why didn't you just go to him to get this fixed up?" You ask curiously, looking back at him but making sure to keep your eyes on his face.

"The good doctor is currently on vacation," Hyde says, chuckling darkly, like he knows something you don't. You're not entirely sure you want know to what it is. 

"What happened to your coat? It's odd not seeing you in it," you admit, trying to change the subject. You hadn't noticed its absence at first, instead being distracted by the blood on his shirt, but now it just looks weird because you've grown so used to seeing him in it. Even if he never kept it on for long.

Hyde chuckles before saying, "I left it at home. Didn't want to risk getting it...dirty."

"How come?" You ask.

"Well, because I killed a man tonight. Does that scare you?" Hyde asks, pausing in his stitching to lean towards you, his face mere inches away from yours.

"Yes," you say, shrinking back from him, your heart in your throat.

"Good," he says, leaning back and resuming sewing himself up before asking, "Could you get me something to drink?"

"Sure," you say, getting up off of the couch, "What do you want? I've got water, milk, orange juice, and wine."

"What do you fucking think?" He asks, an edge of sarcasm tinting his voice.

"Wine it is, then," you say with a sigh, walking from your living room and into the kitchen.

You've just opened your refrigerator to grab the bottle of wine when see your phone on the counter. You realize you could call the police, and have Hyde arrested. The only question is if you should. You grab the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and then shut the door. You walk over to your phone and pick it up, simply staring at it. There's no doubt Hyde would know if you did call the police. Would he kill you too? You wouldn't put it past him. With a sigh, you set your phone back down on the counter before turning and walking back into the living room. 

Besides, truth be told, you'd miss him if he went to jail.

"If you killed him, then how did you wind up hurt?" You ask, sitting down on the couch next to Hyde and placing the bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"Old bastard pulled a pocket knife on me before I downed him," he says, cutting the needle free of the thread and then knotting the thread off.

"Who was he?" You ask, part of you already knowing he won't tell you but still daring to wonder. Before you even have time to react, Hyde is backhanding you across the face. You jerk back in shock, a small split appearing on your bottom lip from the impact of his hand.

"All you need to know is that he had it coming," Hyde says, eyes narrowed and full of rage before picking up the bottle of wine and downing half of it in one gulp before setting it back down on your now-cluttered coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Mister Hyde," you say, looking down at your lap, pressing a finger to the split on your lip as if to stop the bleeding.

"Give Hyde a kiss," he says, softly, and you know he's forgiven you. You look back up, your eyes meeting his now-calmer dark blue ones. You lean in and brush his dark, wild hair out of his face before tentatively pressing your lips to his. Hyde tangles one of his hands in your hair, pulling you closer to him until you're nearly in his lap before removing his hand from your hair and pulling you all the way onto his lap. You let out a squeak of surprise and Hyde chuckles against your lips.

You settle yourself so that you're straddling him, one leg on either of his thighs and then his big hands come up to grip the backs of your bare thighs. His hands move higher up until he's cupping your ass. He squeezes, hard, and you gasp against his mouth.

Hyde uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, quickly battling yours into submission. He pulls you closer to him and you moan, feeling his already hard cock press up against you. He breaks the kiss and just looks at you, eyes dark and full of a raging desire.

"Undress yourself," he says, voice low, releasing his grip on your ass so that it's possible for you to get up off of his lap. You move to do so, yelping when his hand comes down hard on your ass.

"Quicker than that," Hyde says.

"Sorry, Mister Hyde," you say, moving to stand in front of him. You pull your shirt off over your head and toss it elsewhere in the room before reaching behind you and undoing your bra. You let it slide down your arms and then set it on the coffee table, cluttering the poor thing even further. You unzip your shorts and then pull them down along with your underwear. You step out of them and then kick them away, standing in front of the still half-dressed Hyde while fully bare, heat pooling low inside of you as you wait to see what he wants you to do. 

His eyes trail over you, gaze so heavy you swear you can almost feel it brushing your skin, traveling from your face, down to your breasts, with their nipples hardened to peaks from exposure to the air, to your thighs and what's between them before going down your legs and then back up to your face.

"Touch yourself," Hyde says, settling himself back into the couch as if to watch a show, with the show in question being you. Your eyes widen in shock, face reddening as you manage to squeak out," Wh-what?"

"You heard Hyde," he says, eyes narrowing. The thought of him watching you is in equal parts embarrassing and arousing, in spite of the fact that he's been in your head more than once while you've pleasured yourself. 

"Yes, Mister Hyde," you say, raising your hands to cup your breasts. His dark gaze follows the movement of your hands. You brush your thumbs across your nipples before trailing both hands down your stomach, down between your legs. You move your legs slightly farther apart to allow your hands better access to your sex. The fingers of one hand find your clit and begin to rub circles around it while the other hand slips lower, down to the opening of your sex. 

You're already wet but of course you are; being around Hyde just seems to have that effect on you. You slip two fingers into yourself and moan at the feeling of having something inside of you, even if it is just your fingers and not Hyde's cock. Your eyes flutter shut, pleasure growing inside of you as you rub your clit and fuck yourself with your fingers, moaning as you imagine that it is Hyde's cock or even his long, wonderful fingers inside of you.

"Eyes on me," Hyde growls out. Your eyes fly open and that's when you see where his hand is. He's undone his pants and pulled his cock out and currently has one hand wrapped around the thick length, working himself up and down while watching you. You gasp, desire growing further inside of you at the sight of him. His gaze flicks down to between your legs, where you've got your fingers inside of you.

"You can fit more than that inside of you," Hyde says, chuckling darkly, "I know you can, because you've had my cock inside of you. Go on, fuck yourself with more than two fingers."

"Mister Hyde," you moan out, and comply, slipping a third finger into your sex. 

"More than that," Hyde orders.

You've never had more than three of your fingers inside of you at once, but you suppose you'd be able to, since you've had Hyde's generous length inside of you many times before. You adjust your stance so that your legs are farther apart before sliding a fourth finger into your sex as well. You moan at the feeling of being stretched and filled and wish once more that it was Hyde inside of you instead. You wonder if Hyde will ask you to put all of your thumb inside of your sex as well, but all he does is nod in satisfaction. 

You resume fucking yourself with your fingers, rubbing your clit more frantically than before. Between the feeling of your fingers and the sight in front of you, of Hyde fucking his own hand while watching you, you know it won't take long for you to come. You're proven right when your fingers hit a certain spot inside of you, causing you to crash over into your orgasm with a loud moan of Hyde's name.

"Come here," Hyde says, removing his hand from his cock and patting his thigh after you slide your fingers out of yourself. They're sticky with your wetness and you wish you could wipe them on something but you don't think he'd take too kindly to you using his discarded shirt. Instead, you step forward and perch yourself on his thigh, looking at him, wondering what he's going to do. He grabs your wrist, fingers overlapping around it, and brings your hand up to his mouth. 

You realize then that this hand was the one you'd fucked yourself with. Hyde takes each of your fingers into his mouth, one at a time, sucking the taste of you off of them. Heat pulses deep inside of you at the sight and of the feeling of his tongue circling around each of your fingers.

"I want you to ride me," he says, dropping your hand after he's finished with the last finger, dark eyes meeting yours. 

You're momentarily shocked because he's never let you be on top before, instead preferring to be on top of you, whether you're on your back with him on top of you or if he's taking you from behind. You want to ask why but instead ask, "But what about your stitches?"

"That's why you're going to be on top," Hyde says, answering both the question you asked and the question you didn't ask.

"Yes, Mister Hyde," you say, getting off of his thigh in order to straddle him more fully, lining the broad head of his throbbing cock up with the still-slick opening of your sex. You slowly sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch inside of you. Hyde rests his hands on your hips, gripping you hard enough that you know you'll have bruises later but you find that you don't really care about the potential bruises right at this moment. You begin riding Hyde's cock, pulling off slightly and then sinking back down. He helps you set the rhythm, guiding your hips with his hands while thrusting his cock up into you. You moan at the feeling of finally having his hard, thick cock inside of you, feeling the stirrings of a second orgasm growing inside of you. 

Hyde presses his lips to yours in a kiss that is far from gentle, biting at the exact spot on your bottom lip that was already split, splitting it even more. He moves away from your mouth after a moment, kissing and nipping a line down your neck. 

You moan as he passes across a particularly sensitive spot before returning to that spot and focusing on it. Hyde uses his grip on your hips to guide you into a faster pace before moving one of his hands away from you. He brings his hand down on your ass, in a hard but quick slap. You yelp in pain and Hyde chuckles against your neck, moving his hand around to between your body and his, finding your clit and rubbing it. You're still sensitive from before, to the point that it almost hurts for him to rub your clit, especially as roughly as he's doing now. However, you've never been able to resist Hyde, so you're not surprised when your second orgasm of the evening crashes over you before long, in spite of how rough he is. You come with a moan, the walls of your sex spasming and clenching around his cock. 

Hyde's hand returns to your hip as he guides you roughly up and down his cock throughout your orgasm, trying to reach his own peak, drawing your own peak out all the while, until finally, finally Hyde is spilling inside of you, his cock twitching and spurting, his own cry of pleasure muffled by his mouth against your neck. Hyde's hands fall away from your hips and you take it as a sign for you to get up, so you do, his softening cock sliding out of you. Hyde licks the blood off of his lips and that's when you realize he broke the skin on your neck. You sit down next to Hyde on the couch, one hand pressed to your neck. Hyde tucks his cock back into his pants and then stands up. He looks down at you, gaze lingering on your bare breasts before meeting your eyes.

Hyde leans down and presses his lips to yours in a brief but still rough kiss before turning and picking up his discarded shirt from your coffee table and putting it back on, not bothering to button it up.

"Well, until next time," Hyde says, smirking down at you.

"Goodbye, Mister Hyde," you say, watching as he walks to and out of your door and shuts it behind him, leaving you naked and bleeding on your couch, mind heavy with the knowledge that you just fucked a murderer and disturbed by the fact that said fact bothers you far less than you know that it should.


End file.
